


Gingerbread Sweethearts

by HaveAGoodeDay



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, F/F, Gift Fic, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 22:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16753051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaveAGoodeDay/pseuds/HaveAGoodeDay
Summary: Cordelia and Misty attempt to make a gingerbread house, but they get a little distracted along the way.





	Gingerbread Sweethearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lavllnll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavllnll/gifts).



> This is a gift for AngelicRabe, because I love her and she likes fluffy stuff. And it's smut, because I like writing smut. 
> 
> Merry Christmas!

“The instruction say to hold the roof until it sticks on its own,” Cordelia squints at the paper she holds, reading glasses perched on her nose. Her apron is red and green, with a happy little reindeer’s face across the chest, it’s red nose a tinsel pom pom. “But it’s not sticking.” 

 

“More frostin’?” Misty suggests, sitting atop the counter next to their little structure taking shape, her feet clad in mismatching fuzzy socks - a gift from the older blonde - and kicking in to the carols coming from Cordelia’s phone’s speaker. 

 

“We already tried  _ more  _ frosting.” Cordelia sighs, she looks down at the gingerbread cookie sheets coated in sugary white paste. Though the walls stand sturdy, the top slips down with every attempt to balance it. “It would be too much, then.” 

 

“There’s no such thing as  _ too much  _ frostin’.” 

 

“There is when there is more icing then there is cookie!” Cordelia jokes, her laugh singing louder then  _ It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas  _ playing faintly. She places the manual aside and places her glasses on top of the pages, “I just wanted to make something special for this Christmas. It’s our  _ first  _ Christmas together.” 

 

“The first of many.” Misty nods her head with vigor, so certain in her words as she swipes the bag of spice drops from under Cordelia’s nose, ripping into the sweets immediately. 

 

The sugar coats her lips as she pops them in her mouth; and it’s not the only thing that’s claimed space on the swamp witch. Her dress is covered in cookie crumbs from eating the broken pieces, a peppermint disk is tucked against her cheek, and there’s icing wiped across both her cheeks and -  _ God,  _ how did it get in her hair?

 

“You look more like a gingerbread house then the gingerbread house does.” Cordelia knows she must look love-sick, staring at Misty grinning back at her smugly. She reaches out and brushes the pad of her thumb over Misty’s cheeks, the skin going red in a flush under her touch. The supreme brings the digit to her own mouth, giving a little noise of enjoyment as she affirms, “It is  _ very  _ good frosting, though.” 

 

“Really?” Misty urges her, “Sure you don’t wanna try it again, just to be sure?” 

 

Bypassing her fingers, Cordelia leans over and tilts her head up to lick Misty’s face. The wet warmth of her tongue makes the younger witch squeal and squirm, her giggles only subsiding when Cordelia firmly plants a kiss on her smiling lips. 

 

“Very, very good.” Cordelia decides, moving back but barely, the tips of their noses practically touching. “But you already  _ knew  _ that, having eaten so much already.”

 

Misty pouts, but her smile is hard to fight and she reaches over to dip her finger in the excess icing and - moving fast enough as not to get caught - she smears the white sugar onto Cordelia’s cheek.

 

The older blonde scrunches up her nose at the stickiness, “I hope you planned on cleaning that up.” 

 

“I sure did.” Misty agrees, and she pulls Cordelia closer by the straps of her apron, gripping the festive patterned fabric and dragging her tongue over the mess she’d made. The supreme blushes as a moan slips out of her mouth as the Cajun trails her attention down and leaves open mouthed kisses across the skin under her ear. 

 

Her brown eyes fall shut; she relents to the grabbing of Misty’s hands and leans into her girlfriend’s pawing. Palms settle over her chest through too many layers and the younger woman locks her ankles behind Cordelia, using her legs to pull her closer. 

 

_ Jingle Bells  _ starts playing as Misty’s hands fumble to untie Cordelia’s apron, letting the clothing slip in between them to pool on the floor. The necromancer wastes little time, she pulls at the buttons of her lover’s blouse until they pop open and reveal the swell of her chest pushed up slightly, Misty’s mouth dipping to shower the newly exposed flesh with kisses. 

 

The air stutters in her lungs, and Cordelia uses her hands to push Misty’s skirt up. With less clothing between them, the heat of Misty’s center radiates against her lower stomach. The tile floor is chilly under her knees as she drops to them, but the warmth of the oven and their heated encounter keep her mind off the coldness. 

 

“ _ Please,  _ ‘’Delia.” Misty pants, her hands grabbing at her partner’s hair, running her fingers through the smooth strands. She looks down at their coven’s leader framed by her pale thighs.

 

The smirk she gives Misty is dirty, and she puts great care into avoiding where the other woman wants her as she takes off soaked panties, “Use your  _ words,  _ dear.” 

 

She’s so close the swamp witch can very nearly feel her talking, and she tilts her hips up in a desperate search, “I need -  _ shit,  _ Dee I need you right now.”

 

As Cordelia brings her hand up and her fingertips line up, the realization of how  _ wet  _ Misty is stuns her. Her digits go in smoothly, she corkscrews them and repeats the process, listening intently to her lover’s breathless swearing as the older blonde watches her fingers disappear. 

 

There is a solid cracking noise, followed by the gingerbread walls crumbling as Cordelia’s tongue brushes against Misty’s swollen clit. The damage goes barely noticed, and she keeps working at the woman under her touches.

 

“I’m gonna-”

 

The words die off in a whine; Cordelia’s hands draw back and she removes her mouth and looks at Misty pound her fist into the already ruined gingerbread. 

 

Some seconds later, she finds her voice and  cries out, “Miss Cordelia that ain’t v-very nice.” 

 

The supreme finds herself enjoying the way the swamp witch’s face goes from pleading to a shocked, open mouthed groan as she resumes her steady motions. 

 

And she laughs - really laughs - when she stops again and Misty screams  _ fuck  _ followed by something between  _ you  _ and  _ me.  _ Cordelia finds her so  _ pretty _ like this - moaning her name and begging and draping one arm over her face to bite into the skin of it.

 

Misty Day is a vision of unbridled beauty on the edge of her climax - and Cordelia delights in being the one one to see it. 

 

The younger blonde lets out a relieved sob when her partner returns to her and her hand works harder, her mouth sucks stronger, and she tightens up like a string too tightly spun; snapping as Cordelia glances up at her with  _ that  _ look - her lips firmly latched onto Misty. 

 

After, when Cordelia tongue doesn’t relent, she finds herself pushing her away from her too sensitive clit, and she shudders as fingers are removed and Misty tastes herself in the kiss they share. The younger woman has less patience then Cordelia, she simply sticks her hand down the waistband of Cordelia’s pants and underwear, letting her fingers curl in the hot, heavy wetness pooling there. 

 

Cordelia feels her knees almost give out, she leans against Misty and tucks her face into the blonde’s neck. The swamp witch is so different than any of her past lovers, she bites and her short nails scratch across Cordelia’s back. Her touches are not hurried but they press  _ hard,  _ bringing forth muffled moans. 

 

She comes quickly, thighs shaking and clamping shut to trap Misty’s hand. Her eyes roll back and she cries out, “ _ Misty. _ ” 

 

The name keeps rolling off her tongue, though her orgasm butchers it, “Misty, Misty, M-M- _ Misty.”  _

 

As the final wave crashes, the younger witch easily enters her with two long fingers, and uses her thumb to swirl around her clit, and the sudden feelings send her over  _ again.  _ Cordelia’s hands steadying herself on the counter; Misty’s teeth nibble her ear.

 

In the afterglow, they both sport satisfied smiles and catch their breath together. The forgotten Christmas carols play on without pause, and Cordelia looks begrudgingly at their ruined dessert.

 

Misty shakes her head, lets the older woman step back and pushes her skirt down, “I’ll grab the keys, Dee.”

 

“Your gloves too.” Cordelia reminds her, sighing as she picks up the mess and walks it to the trash can. 

 

“Hopefully the store still has the pre-built ones.” 

  
  
  
  



End file.
